With a nod to a legendary crime writer, a wink in the direction of a popular animated film and a sneer at high culture, The Menu embarks on a multi-course meal of mockery and mayhem.
There are times when Mike Mylod’s movie is as laboured as the display of alliteration in the previous sentence. There are also several moments when The Menu unerringly hits the sweet spot.
The table is set for a send-up of culinary trends that have elevated the simple act of eating to an art form – molecular gastronomy, food theatre, the cult of the celebrity chef. Writers Seth Reiss and Will Tracy want us to believe that there’s more under the table to chef Julian Slowik’s quest for perfection – The Phantom Ingredient, if you will.
Slowik (Ralph Fiennes) has summoned a group of handpicked diners to his exorbitantly priced restaurant on an island that can only be reached by a boat that leaves as soon as the guests set foot on land… Only Margot (Anya Taylor-Joy), who has accompanied Slowik fanboy Tyler (Nicholas Hoult), is alert to the Nurse Ratched vibes from maitre d’ Elsa (Hong Chau), the strange gleam in Slovik’s eyes and the robotic responses of his assistants.
The satire is delivered with a knife that’s always shiny but is a bit blunt on closer inspection. The food – gorgeously plated and shot with care – is part of the seduction. Degrees of fatuousness ooh and aah over Slovik’s creations, from adjective-hunting food critic Lillian (Janet McTeer) and her editor Ted (Paul Adelstein) to a trio of shallow bankers (Arturo Crasto, Mark St Cyr and Rob Yang) to John Leguizamo’s washed-up movie star.
The film’s anti-elitism, similar to Ruben Ostlund’s art world caricature The Square (2017), is as scattershot as the misanthropy is widespread. Among the film’s producers is Adam McKay, the writer-director of the climate change screed Don’t Look Up (2021).
The sinister concept, conveyed by increasingly unnerving audio cues and rapid cuts, loses its edge midway through the course and picks up closer to dessert. Unlike Slowik, who is in the tradition of maniacal culinary geniuses who hold themselves and diners to impossibly high standards, The Menu is happy to settle for crumbs. The anarchic comedy works best when around Tyler, who insists on chomping away even when Slowik reveals the real intent behind his menu.
Two performances hold steady amidst an unwieldy horror-flecked journey. Anya Taylor-Joy’s sceptical Margot is a fine foil to the sycophantic Tyler. Ralph Fiennes is magnificent as the chef whose skills have soured into emotions that can barely be articulated, let alone contained.
